


Sick? Are you kidding?

by brunchywrites



Category: DCU
Genre: Just comfort, Other, Sick Fic, alfred is a good man, and its an adventure y'know, because he's trying to do his job, bruce is trying to dad, but that's obvious, he's doing a good job, hurt comfort?, maybe idk, no yelling, robin gets sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 08:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunchywrites/pseuds/brunchywrites
Summary: Dick is trying to do a stake-out and can't help but inner monologue at his predicament. Who just starts getting worse and worse over the course of a few hours? Apparently, Robin does. Luckily Bruce is understanding and just wants what's best for him, and Alfred is always the best.





	Sick? Are you kidding?

Robin’s chest really hurts and for a few seconds that's all he can think about as he paces a rooftop. Rain is coming down in what feels like literal sheets and he’s chilled to the bone. His brain feels like its throbbing behind his eyes. But all he has to do is finish this patol and he can go to bed. He’ll feel better once he sleeps, at least that’s what he keeps thinking to himself.    
  
Stake-outs are never fun, stake-outs when you feel slightly sick? Even worse. They’re boring, normally nothing happens, and when you’re starting to get sick it’s too hard to focus on what’s actually happening around him. Which sucks, because he does enjoy stake-outs sometimes. Especially when he’s trusted to be on his own, and he doesn’t want to mess this one up because someone had to come to school with the flu.. Or was it strep?    
  
Focus, Robin. He crouches down on the rooftop and looks down at the street below, the glinting metal and lights from them as they pass along. He’s waiting for a red van, that’s all. Then he has to monitor all activity, just gain information. Simple, then he can go home. He can practically hear his bed calling to him.    
  
He swipes some of the water off his hair and that’s when he spots it. Robin can’t help it, he grins in delight. The red van pulls into a parallel park next to the building just across the street. He can see everything they do. With newfound energy he moves closer to the edge of the roof, still smiling as the man unload boxes with a very specific logo on them. Robin makes sure to memorize the loopy  _ C.F  _ of it so he can tell Batman later.  Something tickles his throat and he mentally curses himself.    
  
Robin backs away from the edge and tries to clear his throat, dear god he does not need another coughing fit here. He thought he was over this earlier! Is he getting sicker? Wait that makes more sense. But if he would’ve told Batman he’d be missing these important details, like the logo.    
  
Once he’s sure he won’t cough again he runs back to the edge. Luckily, they’re still not done unloading the red van. He can’t see if there’s a logo on it, but it’s certainly missing a license plate. That’s illegal, he thinks in the back of his head. The boxes start varying in size too, he makes a note of it and slowly scoots closer to the edge so his legs dangle.    
  
He’s shivering and doesn’t quite realize it until they’re getting back into the van. Has the rain started coming down harder? Robin can’t really tell but when he blinks again- the van is gone and he feels like he should kick himself for not seeing the direction it went in.    
  
Slowly, he stands up off the roof, trying to ignore the way his vision swims when he’s back on his feet.    
  
A heavy hand comes down on his shoulder and he nearly flinches, nearly being the key word because he’s used to that hand. Robin turns around and looks up at Batman in the rain, the whites of the cowl’s lenses particularly.    
  
“There was a logo on the boxes,” he starts, something building up in his throat. He doesn’t want to cough, not in front of Batman- but it comes anyways. He tucks his face in his elbow and starts trying to talk through his cough. “A  _ C _ and an  _ F,  _ really loopy and pretty. Different sized b-boxes,” he stutters over his words and tries to take a deep breath between coughs.    
  
“You’re sick,” his voice sounds like rocky gravel through the rain, and Robin is seeing double of him. Two Batman’s? Worse or better than one? He found himself simply smiling at his own thoughts for a second, “Let’s go home, I’ll tell Alfred to prepare medicine. You shouldn’t have come out on patrol if you knew you were sick.”    
  
Robin shrugs, “I didn’t think I’d get this sick out here, just stake outing. It got worse..” he points at the sky, “Raining and stuff,” he moves quietly to stand next to him, leaning into his warmth. Batman tosses the cape over his shoulders with a sigh.     
  
“Let’s just get you to the Batmobile. Next time tell me when you aren’t feeling well, it’s dangerous to go on patrol when you’re sick. You won’t be able to perform your best, and you could get hurt,” the lecture begins and Robin mostly tunes it out. More comfortable in leaning against Batman’s side and leeching as much heat as he can off of him.    
  


***

He takes his mask off the second they pull into the cave, holding it in his hands. He somehow feels like he’s gotten worse on the ride home more than when he was standing out in the line,    
  
“You are listening to me about the boxes, right?”    
  
“Mhm,” Batman shuts the car off and steps out, opening Robin’s door for him. He gives him a look, “But right now I’m preoccupied with your health. Standing out in the rain certainly didn’t help you, did it?”    
  
Robin rolls his eyes, “Ughh, you’re Batman right now! Do the Batman thing,” he slides out of the sleek car and almost has to catch himself. Being suddenly upright makes his head spin uncomfortably. His stomach turns and he bites his lip to try and focus himself.    
  
The cowl comes down, “And now I’m Bruce and you’re going upstairs to bed. Alfred is getting your medicine. You need to sleep,” he rests his hand on the side of his face and stares at him. Eyes stupidly clear and blue, and caring. Robin sighs and lets his cheek rest against it. Mostly because it’s cool and feels really nice. “Mm,” Bruce starts, “And feverish, that’s not good. I’ll help you up.”    
  
Bruce picks him up and Robin doesn’t even try to start the ‘I’m a child, I will not be carried right now’ argument again. Mostly because he’s pretty sure if he went up the stairs by himself he was going to pass out or vomit and he really doesn’t want to do much of either.    
  
When he opens his eyes again he’s in his room, and he has to blink a few times. Is he really that out of it? The thought makes him cringe.    
  
“I can get my own clothes,” he tries to say as Bruce starts opening drawers.    
  
Bruce just hums a little and finds a sweatshirt and pajama pants. Robin wants to sigh- wait he doesn’t have to think of himself as Robin anymore.    
  
_ Dick _ sighs in exasperation at his father, “I’m a little sick, not helpless.”    
  
“A little sick,” Bruce echoes back, handing him the pajamas. Dick shifts out of his Robin costume and quickly starts to change clothes. He can’t help but relish the feeling of not-kelvar on his skin.    
  
“Fine, pretty sick. But still, I’m capable! I nailed a logo for you, which by the way. You’re welcome,” he shifts to a sing song voice and grins at Bruce the best he can, then drops off into another coughing fit. It rattles his lungs and boy does he hate coughing.    
  
“And I am very proud of you for that, I just want you to prioritize your health next time. If you had passed out on the roof you could’ve gotten hurt,” Bruce puts his hand on Dick’s head, messing with his hair. Not that Dick really cares all that much.  “That’s what I’m worried about right now, we can go over the logo when you’re not running a fever and coughing half your lung out.    
  
“Quarter of a lung,” Dick corrects with a smile.    
  
Bruce nods, “Coughing a quarter of your lung out. Either way, not good.”     
  
Dick finds himself closing his eyes, leaning into Bruce’s hand. It just feels warm and it’s comfortable to just sit on his bed and be quiet for a while. But the weight dips a little and he knows Bruce is probably sitting next to him, watching like a hawk.    
  
“Oh, Master Bruce, he does look quite awful.”    
  
He looks up and Alfred is in the doorway, holding a tray of medicine. A smile is on his face though, and it makes Dick almost light up.    
  
“As I said, Sick.” Bruce starts and Dick has to elbow him in the ribs.    
  
“I’m not  _ that _ sick. It’s just a bug, I swear. I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.    
  
Alfred sighs softly, “Of course you will. Here, take your medicine and we’ll see if you are correct,” he holds out two pills and a glass of water. Dick takes the medicine quite easily, but drinks the rest of the water either way. His throat is dry and it feels kind of nice.    
  
“Thank you,” he smiles and Alfred just nods at him.    
  
“Any time Master Dick, now I do suggest that both you boys get to bed immediately. Less someone gets sicker and another someone manages to catch a little one’s illness.”    
  
Bruce snorts, “Alright, alright. Goodnight Dick,” he smooths his hair down and Dick very quietly starts to lay down. He pulls his blanket all the way up to his chin and gives a little wave from under the covers. He’s closing his eyes the moment his head hits his pillow.    
  
“Night Bruce, night Alf. In the morning we’ll talk about the logo..” he whispers quietly.    
  
“Of course,” Bruce chuckles and he hears the door click.    
  
Dick is definitely not fine the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm home sick so naturally I had to write a sick fic. 
> 
> if you like this work please consider following my tumblr https://brunchyarts.tumblr.com where I post smaller works and reblog a lot of cool DC stuff ooh. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! Feel free to leave a comment to inspire the gremlin in my brain to want to write more.


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